Night Heist
by J0ekerr
Summary: A new boy in town. How does he react?


'It's all about probabilities man, all about chance. And once you know what yours are, you need to skew them a little, give them a little push in your favour, you know?'

Artie said nothing, he'd have liked to tell Greg to pick up his chances and shove them where the sun didn't shine, but he thought it would be undiplomatic. Even more so considering Greg's somewhat disturbing tendency to punctuate his arguments with high calibre gunshots. So he just nodded and grunted under the weight of the plasma TV he was carrying towards the waiting van.

Greg fancied himself something of an intellectual, and he wasted no opportunity to talk at length about the intricacies of his plans, exposing them in minute detail for all his gang members to hear and feel appropriately awed at his genius. Artie would have liked to shut that pedantic mouth by quoting that line about "better to remain silent...". But he knew that Greg took a dim view to being told to shut up by his underlings. The last one who had done so had ended with a piece of hot lead lodged in his left thigh.

Currently they were in the middle of carrying out one of Greg's supposedly genius plans. Robbing a mall while the police was distracted elsewhere with a major disturbance cooked up by one of the city's freaks. Artie didn't know which one and didn't care, just the thought of them was enough to send shivers up his spine. That was part of the reason that made Greg all the more dangerous in his eyes. It was widely known he had worked with one of the freaks before. Strangely though, he never talked about that. That was doubly odd considering his tendency to motor-mouth and the obvious pleasure he derived from talking about himself. But he kept his mouth firmly shut and all that was known about that time was that he'd survived and now was his own man.

And tonight they were at the mall, robbing it while the police were in the middle of an emergency. Personally, Artie thought the whole plan was stupid. Sure most of the cops might be occupied elsewhere, but that only meant that the whole police force would be on high alert and taking notice of anything and everything, in case it involved the deranged freak they were on the hunt for. Any moment now, Artie expected a patrol car to appear down the street and notice the large open vans parked in front of the smashed doors.

And yet, not a single member of the gang had pointed out the rather obvious flaw in the plan, when Greg had called for them earlier and told them of his plans for tonight's robbery, taking advantage of the ruckus caused by the freak. The perfect distraction for some old fashioned looting, he'd said. And when Artie, had asked as tactfully as he could about possible police interference, almost everyone in the room had snorted derisively. Very few of them cared or bothered about the police. They were a nuisance at worst. In fact, many of them remembered that not too long ago, the cops in this town were more likely to ask for their cut than arrest you. No, to them the police wasn't a concern, the only thing they were concerned about was _him_ and they all agreed that this would keep _him_ busy elsewhere.

Not for the first time, Artie cursed his decision to leave London. Not that he'd had much of a choice there. Things had gotten too hot back home, and putting a whole ocean in between might help cool them down. If only he hadn't chosen this blasted city. It was so, eerie. The gloom clung to the streets even in the daytime, and the shadows always seemed darker and more ominous than they had a right to be. The truth was, that ever since coming to this town, he'd rediscovered a fear he'd thought he'd left behind a long time ago, and now Artie was once again afraid of the dark.

And in that he wasn't alone, every single member of the gang seemed to share his fear, or rather of one particular thing that lurked in it. They spoke of him as if he was some sort of bogey man, a creature born of nightmares. They even refused to say his name, as if saying it was a jinx that would bring about his attention. Artie often thought this was a stupid vicious circle, the more they treated him like some mythical creature, the more they'd give him power over them. After all, no one could be **that** scary.

He stumbled under the weight of his load bringing about an angry remark from one of his companions.

'Move it!' he said, 'Even if the damn clown is blowing up half of the town, you never know when **he** might appear.' The tone in his voice clearly told Artie that if he didn't hurry up immediately, he'd have a lot of time to be immobile in the near future.

'Just catching my breath.' He said before grabbing better hold of the box and quickening his pace.

The engine's roar was like that of a lion paralysing its prey. It was too aggressive, too loud and worst of all, too close. It was impossible for a car so loud to sneak up on them like that, they should have heard it coming from half a mile away. But when he turned his head, he saw the huge metal beast passing right by and ramming the side of the van at least at 50 miles an hour. The loaded van was actually thrown in the air for a split second, before it fell on its side. One side completely caved in and looking up to the night sky. With his mouth open, Artie noted that the black monstrosity had received no damage at all from the brutal frontal collision.

For a second they all stood there too stunned to do anything. Then a canopy on the car slid open to let its occupant out and all hell broke loose. Gunfire flew everywhere as everyone pulled out their weapons and began shooting.

It was like shooting at shadows, he moved like a dark wind, weaving and dodging out of the way of the projectiles. Using the darkness as cover, he seemed to disappear before their very eyes and when he moved again, he was almost too fast to see. Metal glinted in the darkness and something whirled away from the shadow dervish, hitting the temples of the men shooting or burying themselves in the flesh of their hands, forcing them to let go of their weapons.

It was over almost before it started, The figure moved from one criminal to another like black quicksilver. Dealing with each one of them with extreme prejudice. All around, Artie could hear the sickening sound of knuckles hitting flesh and bones breaking as every one of his companions fell unconscious or was left in too much pain to fight any more. Greg had been one of the last to go down, shooting and cursing at the figure chasing him until he ran out of bullets getting not only a broken nose for his efforts but losing several of his teeth as well.

Before he knew it, Artie with his weapon still half raised was the last one standing before the shadow man. Who was now no longer moving like a mad whirlwind and slowly turned around to look at him. Artie got his first good look at the shrouded figure and what he saw froze the blood in his veins.

'Put the gun down.' The shadow man said, with a voice like wind between gravestones.

Artie looked at the ice cold white slits on the cowl covering the man's face, a gaze filled with promises of what would happen if he brought his gun up. Promises of pain he had never imagined possible.

He didn't notice he'd pissed himself until he wondered why his feet felt so warm. And with that thought he let the gun drop to the ground. His hands trembling too much to take aim anyway.

'Smart.' Said the shadow man, but now Artie saw that he wasn't made of shadows. He wore a long dark cloak that covered him almost completely and blended him perfectly with the surrounding darkness. And under the cloak he glimpsed muscles, tense like steel cables, ready to spring at any moment. Then the dark man was right in front of him looking him square in the eye, examining him like a bug under a microscope.

'You're new,' he said. 'So I'll give you this bit of advice, just once. If you insist in keeping this line of work, you'd better leave Gotham, because next time I run into you, I won't be so gentle.'

And then he left, back to the car which roared like some sort of beast from hell and sped away into the darkness, headed somewhere else. And the last thing that Artie thought before he passed out, was that it really was possible for someone to be **that** scary.


End file.
